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SHOWN: Virginia Ortiz, Donato's grandmother (foreground, on R) and Margie Ortiz, Donato's mother (L) tend to Donato's grave at the Skylawn Cemetary in San Bruno. Story is about Donato La Banca, who was murdered four years ago, and whose killers were never caught, and how Donato's death continues to haunt his mother, grandmother, and two aunts, all who raised him. These pictures were made on Sunday, Oct. 1, 2006, in San Bruno, CA. (Katy Raddatz/The S.F.Chronicle)
**Donato La Banca, Margie Ortiz, Virginia Ortiz Mandatory credit for photographer and the San Francisco Chronicle/ -Mags out less

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SHOWN: Virginia Ortiz, Donato's grandmother (foreground, on R) and Margie Ortiz, Donato's mother (L) tend to Donato's grave at the Skylawn Cemetary in San Bruno. Story is about ... more

Photo: Katy Raddatz

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SHOWN: Virginia Ortiz, Donato's grandmother, tends to the smallest details of Donato's grave at the Skylawn Cemetary in San Bruno. The picture shows Virginia Ortiz and Donato La Banca. Story is about Donato La Banca, who was murdered four years ago, and whose killers were never caught, and how Donato's death continues to haunt his mother, grandmother, and two aunts, all who raised him. These pictures were made on Sunday, Oct. 1, 2006, in San Bruno, CA. (Katy Raddatz/The S.F.Chronicle)
**Donato La Banca, Virginia Ortiz Mandatory credit for photographer and the San Francisco Chronicle/ -Mags out less

100106_DONATOXX_RAD_020_RAD.jpg
SHOWN: Virginia Ortiz, Donato's grandmother, tends to the smallest details of Donato's grave at the Skylawn Cemetary in San Bruno. The picture shows Virginia Ortiz and Donato La ... more

Her grandson, Donato LaBanca, was slain four years ago, shot execution style and his body laid carefully on a squalid street in San Francisco's Bayview district.

Police say they think they know who killed him and that the suspect is in prison on another charge. But no one has ever been charged, no one held accountable for taking the life of a sweet-faced 26-year-old man.

"I talked to a psychic about this," Ortiz says, sitting at her dining-room table in her Daly City home. "She said the case will never be solved. I believe her."

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"You don't have to look over your shoulder anymore," Ortiz wrote in an "in memoriam" item she paid to publish in The Chronicle. "But your so-called friends do."

Ortiz and her daughter, Donato's mother, Margarita Ortiz, spend a day every other weekend at LaBanca's grave. They cut the grass, trim it, water it; they clean the headstone with rubbing alcohol and a Q-tip.

Donato was born Sept. 4, 1976. He was an only child, and his father took off when Donato was about 6 months old. Margarita, 54, said Donato grew up without a father figure. It was just him, Margarita, two aunts and his grandmother.

When Donato was about 22, Margarita moved to Morgan Hill. Donato couldn't deal with living in the remote suburbs of Santa Clara County. He missed the streets of San Francisco. So he moved in with his grandmother.

Virginia Ortiz is a petite woman with more energy than you'd expect from a 70-year-old, and a cancer survivor. She's tough both physically and mentally. She said she tried to keep Donato on the straight and narrow.

"I told him if he lived under my roof, he had to abide by my rules," she said. "I didn't care how old he was."

What Donato's mother and grandmother didn't know at the time, or didn't want to know, was that he'd been selling drugs.

They said he probably started in his late teens. Just a way to make some money. He'd had several jobs, most notably donning a giant rat costume at Chuck E. Cheese. But Donato was a playboy and party animal. His mother and grandmother say he was a sweet, laid-back man who never took anything seriously. He just wanted a good time.

As a young man, they said, he hung out with a handful of friends who ran around parts of Daly City and the southern edge of San Francisco, where there are some rough neighborhoods, and some very tough people.

The friends, they said, had grown up to live lives of crime. Donato hung out with them, they said, but eventually grew alarmed by some of the things he saw on the streets. No one knows for certain what his buddies did or when, but Virginia said Donato was reclusive in the last months of his life, and more afraid.

"Donato always told me, 'Nana, I'm not hard like those guys,' " Virginia said. "He wanted out, and he made it known. That was his big mistake. I think that's what got him killed."

Ortiz doesn't know this for a fact. She said she came to that conclusion after pounding the pavement herself, talking to drug dealers and homeless addicts in some of the worst parts of town. She went to places, she said, where even the police fear to tread. She went to find out what happened to the love of her life.

Donato died Dec. 14, 2002. His body was found on the sidewalk in front of 740 Jamestown Ave.

He'd been shot once in the back of the head with a .32-caliber bullet.

Police reports indicate that Donato was probably killed somewhere else and his body left on Jamestown. Someone had folded his hands over his chest and crossed his legs at the ankle, as if to show him at peace, or at rest.

Virginia Ortiz believes the location they dropped his body is significant -- maybe Donato and his buddies used to hang out around there -- but she doesn't know why. She thinks the care someone took to fold his hands indicates it was done by someone who knew him.

After Donato was buried, the Ortiz women hired a private investigator because police did not seem able to solve the crime. The drug problem persists and crimes often go unsolved in the Bayview because no one wants to become a witness and risk getting killed for it.

The private investigator developed information that suggested a suspect, the one in custody on another charge. Police homicide Inspector Michael Johnson declined to discuss details of the case because the investigation remains open but confirmed that police believe they know who killed Donato and that the suspect is in custody on an unrelated charge. Donato either owed this man money or was having a relationship with the man's girlfriend, the private investigator told his family. Or both.

Once, shortly before he was killed, this man lured Donato to a meeting, where he pistol-whipped Donato and said he was going to kill him. Donato got away. As he scrambled into the brush to escape, the man took a shot at him.

Ortiz said Donato would never tell her exactly what happened.

"I know he's in a better place," Ortiz said. "The psychic said it was his time."

And so Donato's mother, aunts and grandmother mourned their loss and tried to get on with their lives.

That's how it would have stayed, except someone has been leaving notes on Donato's headstone. It's as if the writer is talking directly to the deceased, but the writer also refers to Donato's family members and their obsession with the case.

"It's f -- up that your family is still trippin' but there's nothing we can do about their ignorance," one read.

The Ortiz women have published the "in memoriam" notes to Donato twice a year since he died, on his birthday and the anniversary of his death. The one last September included a message to the note-writers: "Leave my son and family in peace for you have already destroyed us by taking my son. Do you know what you have done to me? You have left me with nothing. You have taken all that I had."

The situation has bothered the whole family, to the point where they are trying to move Donato's body from Skylawn cemetery in San Mateo to Denver, where Virginia once lived, and still has family.

They'd prefer to keep Donato close by. Virginia and Margarita feel close to Donato when they're at the cemetery. They talk to him, share jokes and catch him up on the latest goings-on in the family. For holidays, such as Halloween and Christmas, they decorate his grave with jack-o'-lanterns or colored lights. Sometimes, Virginia Ortiz said, she brings a lawn chair so she can sit and talk with her grandson.

And she continues to write messages in the newspaper. The latest note, much longer than the previous ones, spoke of Virginia's love for Donato and mentioned some things a psychic "saw" relating to Donato's life and death.

Virginia Ortiz said she knows the notes are inflammatory. People have told her that she is angering some very bad people on the mean streets. She doesn't care.

"I've had people say, 'Aren't you afraid?' " she said. "No. They can kill me, but I have to do this. I've told my children to be careful. That's all I can do.

"My message to those people is, 'You killed the wrong boy. You messed with the wrong mom.' "